Monday, April 18, 2016

Monday's Minute Challenge: Writing Prompt Challenge For Teens & Up!

A quick writing prompt challenge (and contest) for teens to get their creative juices flowing for the new week. A new prompt is posted, and winners are announced, every other Monday.

  1. The entry must be between 150 - 300 words. (In order to see how many words your entry is, write it in Microsoft Word, or you can copy and paste it here.)
  2. The deadline for the contest will be the Thursday after next. 
  3. The winners will receive a badge for their blog.
  4. The winner will be chosen based on the judges's preferences, as well as the following questions: Does this entry capture my attention immediately? Does it make me want to continue reading? Is the writing clear? They will also take into consideration the writer's voice and style--not necessarily technical issues, such as grammar, punctuation, etc. 
  5. This is only for fun and to stretch your writing muscles--not necessarily to be taken too seriously. =)


The judge panel chooses these winners based on a point system. Keep in mind that the judges are not aware of which entry belongs to which participant until after the judging is complete.

“I told you I’d be back.” 
Snow whirls around me, and I can’t see the person holding me at dagger point. But I recognize the grating voice. Marzuk. 
The dagger presses harder. “No more escape, little witch … now you die.” 
I scream, terrified as the dagger draws blood. Then, all of a sudden, I hear loud footsteps and the dagger disappears. I stumble backwards and squint through the snow, trying to see who rescued me. 
Then I spot him, fighting the man with the grating voice, who has drawn his sword. 
I want to run, but I can’t. My feet are rooted to the ground, and I’m shaking too hard even to walk. Then a voice speaks, a voice just of the opposite of Marzuk’s. It's a mocking voice, teasing even. 
“Killing children now, are you?” Sword hits sword. “You know I can’t let you get away with that.” 
Marzuk gives a feral growl, but the sound is cut short. I hear a loud thump, and he topples to the ground. 
Impossible. “Is he dead?” I whisper. 
The man still standing walks closer to me. I realize he is quite tall. 
“No, he is not,” the man replies, his tone a dangerous purr. “Merely unconscious. I don’t kill unless it suits my purposes.” 
I squint harder, but can’t make out his face. “Who are you?” 
“Who am I? I, m’lady, am the great Cerulean Kane,” he dips into an elegant bow. “Now, I would highly advise you to do as I say … otherwise you could end up with an enemy worse than Marzuk. I’m far more cunning than him, I must say.” 
I blink. Apparently my rescuer isn’t really rescuing me. Then the snow slows, and I can see him clearly. 
All of a sudden, I’m scared.
Congratulations, Savannah PClick here for your badge, and don't forget to claim your points here. =)

 The wind blew fierce, as it brushed over the rolling waves. She finally gathered her                                                            strength, and tried her hardest to get to her feet. The heavens spewed out blinding rain. She tried to keep her balance on the shifting deck of the ship, keeping her elbow raised, so as to protect her eyes. The lightning struck all around the stormy deep. Suddenly, a bolt of lightening hit the mast of the ship, knocking Rose down. She opened her eyes slowly, but could only make out the shape of one standing above her, staring down at her. The figure gathered Rose up in his arms, and carried her over to a covered area.   “Lottie?” Said Rose, in a breathy voice. He did not reply. He only worked hard to keep the young girl safe. The rain slowed only for a moment. Lottie gathered Rose up again, and tried to take her to the seller in the bottom of the boat. Rose’s lips were pale blue, her cheeks had become pale, too. Her blond hair was disguised in rain, and her bright blue eyes were full of fear. “If only you had listened.” He said, continuing whatever he was doing, quite calm for the situation. Rose sensed he was scared, even though he often pretended to be brave. “How could I?” She stuttered. “I love you, Lottie.”
“Is a promise not enough?” He said, working his hands through knotted rope.
“If I had listened,” she stuttered again, “the last time I would have seen your face would have been when you left port!”
“Rather that be the last, and make you suffer only a day, if not less, of sorrow, than you follow me to the ends of the earth.”
“What is love, if not this?”

“I told you I’d be back.” He turned around and kissed her. A moment later, a wave swallowed the ship. If you could see, beneath the wind, rain, waves and ship, two gold rings, sank to the bottom of the ocean.
Congratulations, Allie! Click here for your badge, and don't forget to claim your points here. =)

    Thanks so much to everyone who participated!

    • Submit your response in the comments below, or post it on your blog via InLink (below).
    • Your response should range between 150 - 300 words. 
    • The deadline for the contest will be the Thursday after next. 
    • If you'd rather not submit your post in the comments or on your blog, you may email it to me instead.

    Choose at least one:

    Note: You can always combine the prompts into one entry.

    (Optional) Write a passage continuing your entry from last week week (or whichever week you'd prefer). If you can, try to continue it using one of the following prompts.
    • Write a passage using these items: stone, pen, ink (submitted by Savannah)
    • Write a passage based on this picture (submitted by Shelby)
    • Write a passage either incorporating this phrase OR based on this phrase:  

      "I had never seen anyone look so lost in there own home before."    (submitted by Shelby)

    Post your entry on your blog!:

    If you're posting your entry on your blog, please add your link below:

    Submit your prompt idea!:

    The prompts that are used for Monday's Minute Challenge are submitted by the participants. 

    Here's how this works:
    • You will be able to submit 3 prompts each week in the same format as above: three objects, one picture, and a piece of dialogue or phrase.
    • On Mondays, I will choose 3 prompts that have been submitted by 3 different people.
    • If your prompt is selected, you will receive 2 points!
    • You may submit in the comments below.

    post signature


    1. I think the next prompt should be; train, hat, Kiss,
      sentence: "What Is A dream, if not impractical?"

      1. I really like your sentence prompt!

      2. Writing Prompt;
        Stone Pen Ink
        She turned and toiled with the sword, fighting off the ferocious dragons. They snapped at her every move, and breathed out flames. Chop-chop-swing-swang She swung again and again, chopping heads off the Hydra. Sfw! Sfw! They hissed. She turned left and right to keep from their claws. They chased her round and round, “Back, you beasts!” She cried with anger in her voice. She swung once more, wiping the heads off them. A cloud of dust spewed from the ground, as the Hydra fell. She crouched down, to protect herself from the dragon, until she realized it was dead.

        She walked down the dirt trail that led down the mountain. The townspeople gathered in great groups up the mountain to thank the fearless slayer. “She slayed the hydra! Hooray! Hooray!” shouted a mother, with a small baby in arm.
        “Slayer of The Hydra! Long live- what’s your name?”
        “Long live Farrain The Slayer!” The whole town cried. She walked home down the hill, ignoring the chants and cries. Into her little hut, where a pen, ink, and paper awaited her. As she came in, small rocks toppled over the step. She sat down at the little table “Another victory. Horra. Horra.” She said sarcastically. It wasn’t that great a deal to her. For in every town she went to to conquer a mighty dragon or beast, she won. It became a boring hobby, you know, to fight. Win. and become Farrain the Slayer, O’Farrain The Great, ect.

        She sat in her bed, and she slept. For the next day to come, she would have a new beast or Dragon to fight, in a city half-a-world away.

        (I simply posted this on the comments, I only assisted in the writing of this story. Helped her choose better wording. She was not abe to post this because she doesn't have an email or a blog.)

      3. Thank you! That's actually a quote from the book I'm writing :) And that picture goes along with in in that page.

    2. Item prompt: letter, knife, cage
      Sentence prompt: Once upon a time, I was free.
      Picture prompt:

    3. Writing Prompt Challenge
      I had never seen someone look so lost in their home before.
      Well, it's not something that normal people would think. Everything was the same. The leather couch in the middle of the room, the vase with cheery flowers in the side, and the television on and running. She stepped inside the room, after being frozen for forever. And looked around. You could feel her gaze penetrating each item in the room, critically analysing it and peeling off the layers of memories until she reached the ones that contained her. She felt the peeling leather of the sofa, the polished wood of the chairs, and smelt the aroma of the flowers. I continued looking at her, transfixed by curiosity. Where had she gone? Why had she gone? I mean, not everyone had the guts to just up and go.
      I looked at her, my eyebrows knitting together. But then I saw her gaze on me. And she screamed, silent tears still flowing down her face. When had she started crying? I ducked, but even my mind knew it was too late for that. And that's when I saw it. And that's when I started screaming too. The date was November 13.
      It's January 13 today. And I still haven't stopped.

    4. Picture Prompt
      "I'll be right back."
      She rushed outside to the car, for reasons unknown. But with a smile in her face, so it shouldn't be anything serious. I remember seeing her figure running towards her Toyota Camri. I remember seeing her open the car door. But the thing I don't remember is how she landed five feet away from the car in less than five seconds. Suddenly, the silver Camri was black. Unrecognisable. I don't remember how I got there. Only that looking into her eyes reminded me of play dates and whispered promises and all the things that sibling did when they were young. "Adrian, give me my purse." What? Is she crazy? What is she going to do, call the ambulance? It's too late for that. And I know that, else I would never give up on her. "Give me the damn purse, Adrian." I reach for the purse, open it, and hand it to her. She takes out her medicine, and shoves all the pills in her mouth. What the-? "Don't leave me. Don't." She touches my cheek, and closes her eyes. Her body stills. "No, no! Sam, get up! Get up, please Sam, please." The world dissolves as tears fall down my cheeks. Instead of her seeing her life flash before her eyes, I do. The first time I saw my little sis, when we played in the water together, when she almost drowned in the swimming pool, when- She moved! She moved? I look at her gasping body, and smile with relief. I had heard about many cases of people coming back from the dead, this wasn't going to be any diff- "Adrian." "Oh th all god, Samantha, you're alive. You're alive, and we're going to go to the hospital, and you'll be alright. Just let me pick you up, and we'll call a cab." I pick her up, and- Oh my god. She- It looks at my horrified expression and smiles with big sharp teeth. "I told you I'd be right back, didn't I?" Then she pounces.

    5. I hope I'm not too late!

      Here are some prompts:

      Three words: lullaby, poison, window

      Sentence: Life is a lie told by somebody else.


    6. Here is my entrance: I used the sentence prompt...

      I had never seen anyone look so lost in their own home before. It was like he hadn’t lived there before. He didn’t recognize the pictures on the walls of his siblings or his parents. He couldn’t remember, that last year, we had replaced the fence together. And he wouldn’t remember that this was the house where our relationship died. It was almost as if he built a wall around his brain and shot the memories he couldn’t bare to live with anymore over it. One of those memories happened to be the small, yellow cape on 17 Magnolia Street in Harvard, Maine. I was thrown out with those memories too. Me, Mya Anne Stewart, his sister, his friend, and the one who tried to kill him.

      I had never seen anyone look so lost in their own home before. But maybe I was reading him wrong; I was looking in through the window because I knew, that if he saw me, he would shoot me on the spot. And I'm not ready to die today. There's still so much I have to do.

    7. Sorry, again I trimmed it as best as I could but it's still 327 words...

      Phillip sharpened the edge of his feather pen with the dagger on his desk, dipped it in the ink, and started scratching away on the yellow paper.
      A sharp rap on the window startled him out of a yawn, and he rushed over to look out. He jerked back as a stone hit the pane and quickly opened it,
      ‘Who's there?’ he asked in a loud whisper.
      ‘It's me, stupid!’ came another voice.
      ‘I'm coming down!’ he called, smiling, and ran to get his cape. He flung it over his satin clothes and hoped Vivian hadn't planned anything too messy. With a sharp tug, he pulled open the massive door to his study and ran to the end of the hall, his boots making soft noises. He came out into the fencing room, and out onto the balcony. Jumping down, landing in the grass and stealing across the gardens to the secret hole in the hedge was accomplished in a matter of seconds. Vivian was already there. She seemed anxious.
      ‘What's wrong?’ Philip asked her.
      ‘Nofin’. She mumbled, with a look that clearly meant the opposite. ‘Now. Stay with me, and don't talk.’ he nodded. Rather quickly, and roughly, she pulled him through the maze of hedges. At long last, with his clothes ripped in comparatively few places and her clothes already stained and torn from who knew what, they arrived at a forest. Vivian thought she had successfully lost Phillip’s sense of direction, and gave a low whistle. From many places at once a similar call was repeated.
      ‘Where are we?’ he asked. ‘It's getting to be dark.’
      Vivian let go of his hand, and backed away.
      ‘I'm sorry. Don't blame me, please. I had no choice.’
      Before he could say anything else, he felt a blow to the back of his head.
      ‘What ‘ave we got ‘ere then?’ he could hear as he fell the the forest floor.
      ‘Don't!’ he heard Vivian shout. Then... nothing.


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